


drifting like the cream in your coffee

by haloud



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Smut, Getting Back Together, M/M, Oral Sex, post-s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26383903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: They'll never be certain; they'll never known for sure when they're ready to begin again. But it's been far too long for that to stop them from trying.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 57
Kudos: 169





	drifting like the cream in your coffee

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from scared by delta rae

Michael slides to his knees.

Chin pointed up, defiant, he reaches for Alex’s waistband, only for Alex to stop him with a thumb brushing his cheek, stopping just to press into the corner of his mouth. From this perspective, his eyes are so lovely and dark, ringed in thick lashes, beneath his dramatic brows, in his beautiful face—Michael stills, waiting for him to speak or for that hand to fall away, impatient but needing, more than anything else, to be _good._

For Alex. It still feels impossible—idealistic, unattainable. That he could ever be anything but a burden. A bad memory in the making. Between them, it’s all so inside out, and Forrest and Alex just broke up a few weeks ago, it’s fast, it’s stupid, it’s a mistake, it’s going to hurt—

He doesn’t let his tongue steal a taste of Alex’s thumb still pressing warm and firm to the sensitive skin of his mouth, even as it drags down just a millimeter to tug at his lower lip, but he does let his hands slip away to bracket Alex’s hips instead. How long is he gonna have to wait? For Alex to give him permission? For Alex to send him away? His heart pounds so loud in his ears he might not even hear the words.

“Are you sure?” Alex asks.

What? Michael must have misheard. The question makes no sense. He’s never been sure about Alex. He’s never been _surer_ about anyone or anything else.

Before he can find any words, Alex continues, “I mean, I want you to be sure. You have to be--I don’t want to make this weird, or mess it up, or make you think it’s just a rebound, I--mmph!”

Michael cuts him off, pushes up to mash their mouths together, misses just a bit until Alex relaxes and, hands clutching his face, redirects him to let his tongue uncurl inside his mouth, the kiss going from zero to sixty in no time at all. One of Alex’s hands drops to fist the back of Michael’s shirt, rucking it up. The air of Alex’s sitting room is icy cold on the exposed small of Michael’s back, but he’s already shivering.

“Is that a yes? Is that a yes?” Alex breathes when Michael pulls away to kneel for him again.

“I’m sure if you’re sure. If you--Alex, I--”

“I know.” 

Alex’s hand comes back to cup his face, fingers pushing through his thick curls, and Michael leans into it, mouth falling open as a little sigh of bliss escapes him. He missed-- _missing_ this isn’t a good enough word. Doesn’t say nearly enough. Every part of his skin tingles awake and yearning and even though Alex is so _close_ it’s still not enough, he still needs more. 

Alex says, “I know. This isn’t a hookup, this isn’t--it’s real, okay? This time. We’re going to try this time.”

“We are.” Michael’s fingers curl, nails rasping against the thick seams of Alex’s jeans on the outsides of his thighs. They’ve come this far--Michael’s mouth is watering--he _needs--_ but there are more important things. He says, “We can take this slow, if we need to, if you think, we can decide _together_ …”

Alex’s shoulders shake with laughter, and he bends in half to brush another sweet kiss against Michael’s lips, indulging him when his teeth close around his lower lip and tug when he tries to pull away.

“I don’t want to go slow,” he says. “Fuck, Michael, I want you--”

“I want you.”

“Then we don’t have to wait. We can have this. And you’ll--you’ll be here in the morning?”

“I will. Fuck, Alex--”

Michael has built a pacemaker from scratch with these hands, welded and fiddled and gardened and destroyed, with two hands and with barely more than one, but he’s all clumsiness with both as he strips Alex out of his pants, dropping equally clumsy kisses every time he exposes another inch of warm, bare skin, tip of his tongue seeking out that softness with a hint of salt. Alex leans back, stomach trembles above Michael, sucks in a sharp, jumping breath when a stray curl tickles against him, and both of them take a break to laugh again, at themselves, at the spider-silk delicate strength of the thing they’ve _always_ gotten right, the original language they learned to speak love.

For ten years every slipped touch, every awkward fumble, felt like soap bubbles popping, felt like the end of the world. But this all feels like building up, like architecture, a magnum opus in skin and sweetness and sweat.

 _I love you._ It’s on the tip of his tongue. But that, at least, can wait for solid ground. For now it’s enough that they hold each other up, pull the chute, dismount instead of shattering at terminal velocity.

He gets out of his own head. He focuses on the realness in front of him, a grin stretching his jaw as he palms at Alex’s hardening cock beneath the thin layer of his underwear, and Alex hisses impatiently, flexing as Michael slips a teasing finger beneath the waistband, runs one blunt nail lightly along that still-hidden skin.

“Michael!”

“What? We’ve got all night. We’ve got...mm.”

Alex kisses him.

“More than that,” Alex says.

Michael kisses him.

Together they shove Alex’s boxer briefs down to join his pants hanging awkwardly between his knees, and they should get Alex’s leg off to really relax, but there’s time for that too. Some people might say that a hurried blowjob five feet inside the front door isn’t exactly romantic, but those people have never seen all the things Michael Guerin can do with his mouth.

Alex’s dick bobs forward into Michael’s hand, and Alex rolls his hips when Michael strokes it to spread pre along the shaft. Another bead of slick wells up and this time Michael chases it with lips and tongue, swallowing against the salt that floods his mouth and swallowing again for good measure, it’s--It’s been too long, and someone with shame might feel ridiculous for the eager buzzing beneath his skin, but Michael is not that man, and it’s been too long. He wants Alex’s cock in his mouth, in his throat, wants to swallow around it and feel every bit of sensory feedback he’s been missing--the ache in his jaw, the throb inside his throat, the texture on his tongue, tears tumbling over his lashes and drool at the corner of his mouth and the _taste_ and _smell_ and _feel_ fogging up his brain as he hears Alex call out his name--

His own cock pulses, and he gives it a squeeze. Alex makes a sharp noise, and that makes Michael throb again with lust completely off the leash and running rampant through his body.

“Oh yeah?” His voice is raspy already, even before his throat’s had anything in it. “You want me to keep my hands to myself? Wanna tell me where to go, make me wait for it, make me--”

_Please, please._

“You know I do.”

He didn’t, though, not for sure until now. Wasn’t sure if something had changed in that dynamic between them. Having that confirmation is a key in the last lock holding Michael back, tension melting out of him as he nuzzles his stubbled cheek against the sensitive skin of Alex’s inner thighs.

Alex runs his fingers once again through Michael’s hair, raking nails against his scalp, tugging on his roots. Michael buries his lips against Alex leg and muffles his moan, eyes fluttering shut. He’s so easy for this.

“Fuck, I--” _love you_ “love that.”

“I know,” Alex says, so softly Michael trembles at the almost-knowing, the thing Alex knows but hasn’t heard.

Later. For now, Michael pays him back with different gold and rubies from his mouth and kisses a path back to his groin, cups his balls and curls his tongue around the head before sinking down just an inch to suck on it. Alex hisses, and his other hand yanks. Michael shudders at the tiny pain that zips across his nerves.

“So good,” Alex breathes.

Michael whimpers at the words and sinks down further, halfway, before pulling up again, drawing the flat of his tongue across the sensitive underside, thrilling at Alex’s soft moan.

“That’s it, take me deeper.”

He puts the barest pressure on the back of Michael’s head, but Michael didn’t need the encouragement. He opens his throat and sinks down all the way, leading with his hand until he gets to the base and swallows wet and desperate around the intrusion, tightens his lips and pulls off and goes down again with a choking little moan that has Alex’s toes curling against Michael's hip on one side, that little reaction making Michael glow with satisfaction.

“You’re so fucking good. Know just what to do, fuck, it’s never—I’ve never—”

Alex bites off his words with a gasp, and Michael flicks his eyes up to check on him, make sure he doesn’t need to pull back—only to find Alex looking back at him, fire in his eyes. Michael rubs his legs to soothe him, then grabs his hips to urge him forward, because Michael can take it—Alex can _take_ him—Michael _wants_ him to.

Alex takes his breath away.

With each stroke in and out of his mouth, Michael pulls out every trick he knows, until Alex is panting and cursing, until he tears Michael away by the hair and pulls himself off onto Michael’s upturned face, open mouth. Michael swallows what he catches on his tongue.

As soon as Michael’s eyes blink open again, Alex is hauling him up into his lap, fumbling with his button and fly, and it’s only then that Michael feels it again, the way his cock is throbbing trapped inside his jeans. He moans loud and shameless when Alex gives him the heel of his hand to grind against through the fabric of his briefs, paying extra attention to the wet spot soaking through the cotton at the head.

Michael is halfway through moaning Alex’s name when he pulls him in for a kiss that sends them both sprawling sideways against the arm of the couch. Michael’s mouth is swollen and raw but the bruising of the kiss feels so right, and he rides that feeling like he rides Alex’s thigh until Alex’s sure and steady hands get him where they want him, hold him still for long enough for him to get the message, and let Alex stroke him into orgasm.

Then they both are quiet. Michael slumps forward to rest on Alex’s chest, the weight of his body tucked carefully against Alex’s left leg and the back of the couch to keep from crushing his prosthesis and stump. Alex’s arm goes over top of him, tracing idle patterns into his back, walking fingers back up his spine to stroke his hair, little touches never stopping like he might disappear if Alex stops. 

It’s when he has a thumb resting solid and warm against the apple of Michael’s throat that he speaks.

“You can, um. You can borrow a pair of my pants for tonight.”

Michael’s heart gives a funny squeeze. “Yeah?” He croaks.

“Yeah, you know, what happened to yours _is_ my fault.”

“Sure, I blame you.”

Alex laughs at that, eyes crinkling up at the corners. His smile flickers just for a second when he asks, “Do you have to work in the morning? How early do you have to get up? Will I see you?”

“Hey.” Michael kisses his chest. “I can change my schedule to fit you. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Is that okay? I don’t want you getting in trouble with Sanders--”

“What, there isn’t any part of you that likes the idea of me gettin’ in a little trouble ‘cause I didn’t want to leave your side?”

Alex shoots him a serious look, and Michael kisses his chest again, up to his collarbone, to soothe him.

“Sanders won’t get mad. I’ve been a model employee for months now, yeah? Plus, giving me shit is like his number one hobby, so I’m doing him a favor…”

“If you’re sure.”

“Never been surer. I want…”

What he _wants_ is too big for words. Alex’s bedhead, the shape of his lips around the rim of a coffee cup, the honest trust of the early morning, all walls down, the world just the two of them.

“I want to stay,” Michael says, “For as long as you’ll have me.”

And Alex says, “Okay, then. Stay.”


End file.
